


The breaking of The Timeless Child

by streetprem



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, F/F, Prison, Torture, how do tags work, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23460157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetprem/pseuds/streetprem
Summary: The Doctor is alone. Imprisoned. And hope is slipping away. Who are these creatures torturing her, what do they want? And will anyone ever find her?
Relationships: The Doctor & Yasmin Khan, The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	The breaking of The Timeless Child

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at a multi chapter fic (even though it might only be 3 chapters long but who knows!). I'm bad at proof reading so apologies for any mistakes.  
> I hope you enjoy it!

She couldn’t count the days, not anymore. She had tried, and for the first few hundred years she had managed. She counted her heartbeat, her breaths, the slight hum and vibrations of the prison’s engine; it was a constant and repeating rhythm to chime into. But once _they_ started coming, it was impossible for even the Doctor to keep track.

It had taken her years of patience and quiet, two things the Doctor wasn’t always known for. But eventually, while on route to one of her yearly medical examinations, she had her chance. A fellow inmate had shouted “The bounty was big on that one! The Timeless Child lives! The Timeless Child lives!” and with his scratching voice echoing through the chambers, a swarm of screams and cries followed the Doctor to her ward. _How did they know?_ Once inside, away from the shrieking she asked, “Why am I here?” Her first words spoken. She had known better than to argue while in a Judoon prison. Her being here, for whatever reason, she knew it was no mistake. Someone wanted her here. There was no talking her way out of this one. She hoped that in this moment her good behaviour would pay off.

“You call yourself The Doctor.” Blunt. Well, conversation wasn’t one of the Judoon’s most alluring qualities.

“Right.” She had to bite her tongue. No cheek. No smart talk. Keep it simple Doctor. “But, why does that warrant my arrest? Why does me being The Doctor mean imprisonment?” The Judoon in question was silent. Oh god, had she pushed it too far too quickly?

“We’ll take it from here.” Two figures. They were entirely cloaked, body and face masked in heavy stiff leather. Who were they? They weren’t normally here for her exams. It was usually a blood sample and a scan. Why were they here? Their presence turned the Doctor cold. She knew evil, all too well. She was still strapped to the gurney. _Oh God._ Burying her nails into her palm, the Doctor tried to suppress the fear slowly passing through her. Isolation and solitude, that was one form of torture, but she felt ill prepared for whatever was about to happen.

“Doctor. Is that really your name?” There was no pause and the other figure continued, “You wonder why you are here?” She didn’t know where to look, their voices muffled and dulled by the leather and with no eyes to be seen. Everything about these beings unsettled her. These were creatures of darkness, and she was completely alone and powerless to them. “You are the Timeless Child. You must be stopped. We will stop you.” There was no emotion behind their words. Just an air of self-assured purpose. _What do they think I am?_ If the Doctor were to be asked the same question _“What are you?”_ she wasn’t sure she knew anymore.

Change is a part of life. An inevitability that the Doctor had become well acquainted with. But whether you’re human or Time Lord or The Timeless Child, change can sometimes be difficult. We adapt to change. It all helps us grow, in the end, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And in that moment, the Doctor realised she was on the cusp of possibly the biggest change she could remember. And god did it scare her. When we’re thrust into the unknown, there’s no way of predicting what could happen. There is no way to know the ways we may change or what we might grow into. Moments, simple and forgettable moments can shape a person. The faces of all the inmates she had passed on her way to this very room came to her mind, what were all their moments? What changed, or didn’t, that lead them here? Could someone tell the Doctor when it changed for her? Could someone hold her hand and tell her what she grows up to be? Change, it's hard. But god was it harder when you were alone.

The Judoon that had brought her here had left without a word. Before the Doctor could speak again the two beings moved to either end of her, one at her feet and one at her head. There was no warning, there was no room for breathing or plans. From inside their cloaks each appeared two hands, three large fingers encased in leather. The first wrapped around her ankles, heavy and tight. The touch was cold around her bare skin and the Doctor could feel no heartbeat. It was the touch of death. The next set of touches, the doctor was not prepared for. As soon as the large pads of leather cladded fingertips touched her temples it was like the air was ripped out of her lungs. Soon followed the feeling of her skin on fire, like flames were licking at her flesh and consuming it. She couldn’t scream, she could only gasp for air that was not there. The pain paused while the hands on her head adjusted. _How could this be happening? What do they want?_ But her thoughts couldn’t catch up quick enough because what happened next turned her blood cold. The air returned to her lungs suddenly and painfully. They were in her mind, in her memories. The Doctor let out a harsh cry.

Having someone invade your memories, search through them like flicking through pages in a book was never a comfortable experience, but this was something else. As her memories were being recalled it was like her nerves were being pulled at, plucked and pushed, like a child fumbling over the strings of a guitar trying to discover music. Her body was exhausted before the process had really began, it was as if she was reliving all sensory memory. She was feeling lifetimes of memories with each second. The Doctor had lived a lot of lives, and with each of those lives came countless bad memories. There was no closing of doors to the areas of her mind she wanted hidden. They were in. Her body was being drained; her hearts were racing. But clearly it wasn’t enough. They weren’t finding what they were looking for. She had no idea of how much time had passed, but then they started introducing exterior stimulus, and she knew it was far from over. How do you torture someone who has lived countless lives over countless centuries? Force them into the memories they had long forgotten. They were gouging out her memories and she could feel it. That’s when she realised, they were slowly puncturing her flesh, dragging blades across her now exposed torso. _They’re connected._ Her exterior pain was unlocking and giving them access to days she had long forgotten, faces she refused to let in were now there, behind her eyelids screaming. Screaming for a Doctor. For her.

Her limit had been reached and exploited. The Doctor was unaware of her cries and wails, the tears rolling down her cheeks. _Get off me Yaz... Please._ It was the final thing she saw before her body gave in. Yasmin Khan. The hurt in Yaz’s eyes and the pain the Doctor felt leaving her, with her own words echoing, over and over. Her voice flooded the surrounding cells and a silence fell around it that marked the beginning of something dark. The breaking of The Timeless Child. The Doctor blacked out and the silence remained.

Once the Doctor wakened after this first assault, her body was collapsed in on itself and slumped against the cell wall, there was a moment of calm. A moment where none of it had happened. But a moment was all that was granted. Seconds later waves of pain charged through her, being emitted to all corners of her being. _It was real. It had happened._ She must have been moaning, one of the Judoon opened her cell armed with a syringe. _No. No more._ They yanked her by her arm, dangling her in the air with no willpower to protest. Words couldn’t even form on her tongue. The syringe was plunged straight into the crook of her elbow and it was like falling into water. She was utterly submerged by it, wherever it was taking her, the Doctor welcomed it. Wherever it was, it was strange and numinous. All she could see was a blanket of white light and dancing orbs of colour. There were voices, familiar voices, but she couldn’t make them out. They made her smile none the less. With an abrupt thump, echoes of her reality came fluttering through and she could feel the breeze of truth washing over her. She had returned back to the floor and the Judoon guard was gone.

With her hands reaching out she could feel the cold floor beneath her. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe through the fog rolling in over her mind. Memories were still floating in and out, lacking clarity for the Doctor to decipher them. But the words remained clear _I want more. More of the universe. More time with you._ A shaky whimper escaped the Doctors lips. Where was Yaz now? Had the fam got home safe? Could they ever forgive her? Normally the Doctor didn’t linger on such thoughts, but she didn’t have the strength to fight now. Thoughts of Yasmin Khan forgetting her, moving on. Although that’s what she wanted, for her brilliant Yaz to live, to grow, she couldn’t ignore the growing desire to be there, living and growing with her. To share a life, experiences, the good and the bad, to grow together; what an adventure it would have been. She could almost see her. The more her thoughts and memories swirled across her eyes dancing with the lights in her cell, the more she could swear Yasmin Khan was with her. With Yaz’s face just in front of hers, she reached out, hoping she would fall out of this present reality. But her hand fell through the air, and like disrupted smoke Yaz melted away. With trembling lips and a burning lump in her throat, the Doctor held on and waited for this to pass.

When things started to fall back into normality, she began to assess her situation. She was no longer in pain; a double-edged sword when she realised, she was now pumped full of drugs. Looking at her arm there was indeed a large needle mark, still slightly leaking blood. Incidentally this led the Doctors eyes to travel, she saw her torn prison clothes stained with blood. Rolling them up she uncovered her wounds, they weren’t deep, but they were sore and plentiful. They were just over 24 hours old. Tracing them gently, each one caused shocks of images, not just images, but memories to flash through her mind; like each wound was tethered to a memory. Her body was altered for the convenience of someone else, someone she was yet to know or understand. The Doctors jaw was clenched, her teeth grinding together. She let out short wavering stabs of air, and her lips ever so slightly turned up into a snarl. Even in a slightly inebriated haze, nothing could cloud the sheer rage that was bolting through her hearts.

There was a small basin with water and a sponge, and a change of clothes left on the other side of the cell. She made her way over on unsteady legs. There were bruises on her ankles, clear and definite marks of three large fingers. She scrubbed at them with ferocity, ignoring the tears falling from her eyes. The Doctor had no idea who she was. She was alone. And someone wanted her gone. In a moment where the water settled and stilled, the Doctor caught her reflection; two marks, one on each of her temples. The Doctor cried out, not in pain, but with guttural anger and knocked the basin across the room. This was the beginning. And with no natural end in sight, the thought that this could be the rest of her existence, like ink bleeding, defeat spread, and any traces of hope were consumed.

Regularly but in no particular pattern, the Doctor was brought to these men over, and over again. The process was identical. Each time new wounds were made to replace the healed. Some traced over old, mixing memories and faces in the Doctors head. Each time she woke, trailing her fingers over the wounds left her more and more distressed. Memories becoming confused and worn out, some being revisited over and over by the cloaked figures, others by her. _Get off me Yaz… Please._ That one stayed clear. That one, they traced over the same piece of flesh. Every time. On the centre of her chest, between both hearts. Is that where it lived in her? It wouldn’t surprise her. Love. The most powerful emotion of them all. Even love lost. And it kept drawing them back in. Back to Yaz and the last time the Doctor saw her. The years trickled by and eventually time stood still in a frozen point of agony and intoxicated lows. It became part of her routine for the Doctor to clutch her chest, holding onto that memory. Holding onto any part of Yasmin Khan she could.

Where before her well-behaved nature had an undercurrent of coyness and deception, now her placid and docile demeanour was for a much less palatable reason. As time passed the Doctor’s leather gowned captors dug deeper and moved more and more of her memories around. There were days the Doctor couldn’t tell the difference between the real and the imaginary. The more they searched, the more familiar it all felt, flashes of what she had seen in the matrix merged with her present. Sometimes when she would look up at the men and their leather faces, she would see Tecteun’s face. _Must it always come down to this?_ The Doctor would plead with the universe. When her legs would allow, she would stand, looking out to the universe and beg it, beg any part of it to reach out and help her. Sometimes, when she was looking out into the sea of stars, she would see Yaz. She would sometimes hear the TARDIS. Sometimes she would see River. But sometimes all she saw was black. And that was what scared her the most. With these hallucinations increasing, it wasn’t uncommon for the Judoon to restrain the Doctor in her cell. Trapped and bound on the cold floor, where from the corner of her eyes she would watch Gallifrey burn, again and again. There were times, in amidst all this hurt and chaos where the Doctor would regain clarity, never for long, nothing ever lasted anymore. She would remind herself of things she was certain. Who she knew she was, _The Doctor_ , although she hadn’t heard that name in years, only The Timeless Child. And who she knew she loved, _Yasmin Khan_. And then the clarity ended as it normally did, with the Doctor clutching her chest.

It hadn’t been long since their last visit. She still tried to count sometimes, but it never lasted, something always drew her attention away. But she was certain it couldn’t have been long ago, the needle mark was still visible from her injection, they only came in the beginning, before the healing really kicked in and the physical pain subsided. It was quiet. It was nearly always quiet. Even the Judoon kept their distance from her. Everyone was afraid of her. Her hair had grown, it was wild and unruly, and parts were nearly always matted with blood. Her eyes had become shallow and sunken, she felt like there was only a small hum of the Doctor left within her. But she held onto that part of her with every ounce of life she had left.

With her eyes heavy, exhaustion began to carry her over to something that resembled sleep but was never quite there. That’s when she heard it. Every part of her clenched, muscles tight and heart rate soring. _Not again, no more, let it end. Let me rest._ The sound of the TARDIS. Perhaps she had accidentally brushed one of her wounds, she couldn’t bear it, reliving the sound of her oldest companion. The visions would go, sometimes, and sometimes she could make them go. With her legs curled up to here chest, eyes screwed shut but with tears still pouring out she held back her whimpers, knowing that although they weren’t too near, the Judoon didn’t like it when she acted up.

She could hear the doors open. She could hear the footsteps. Oh god what if it isn’t in my head. What if they’re back? _They can’t be. No, they can’t be. It’s too soon. It’s too soon._

“Doctor?” words that taunted her, her memories rewired to hurt her. And it worked. She whined, quietly and into her own arms. It was Yaz’s voice. These tricks were cruel. Why wouldn’t they stop? _Why?_ Her voice was laden with sadness and grief. _I’m sorry Yaz. I'm so sorry._

“Doctor. Come with us, let’s go we need to get you out of here.” Her eyes were frantically searching for that voice. _Jack?_ She was losing it again, she could feel it, memories crossing over one another, people and voices she loved mocking her. “Get her in come on, we don’t have long.” There was movement. Then an arm grabbing her. Her eyes shot open and looked at the figures above her. It must be them. The two men back to take her away. Her mind was playing tricks on her. _How dare they take her face. How dare they_. Fury blazed within her. She yanked her arm away.

“Get off me.” She snarled all too loudly. There was noise from outside her cell.

“We have to go.” Jack ushered Yaz away.

“We can’t leave her! The Doctor needs us!” _Oh, that voice._ The Doctor let out a loud and pain filled cry. She couldn’t look away. The pain in Yaz’s face. _I’m sorry Yaz._ She kept crying. There was more noise from outside the cell.

Panicked, Jack ushered Yaz back into the TARDIS, “We’ll be back. But not now. Not like this. We have to go. Now.” The doors to the TARDIS shut. And they were gone. She was still crying. The Doctor willed herself into darkness, she looked up to the barred window. She dug her nails into the open wound in her chest, and all she saw was black.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the next chapter will be out very soon (lock down and all!) maybe even in the next day or two.  
> follow my twitter if you want updates on when the next part comes out @premboi1  
> Anyway, kudos and comments are always appreciated - thank you for reading :) x


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